


I Know The End

by badboibuckyyy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpine the therapy cat, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beta Read, Bucky Barnes & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Bucky Barnes & Winter Soldier are Different Personalities, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Cold War, Communism, Cuban Missile Crisis, End of the World, Eventual Happy Ending, Historical References, Internalized Homophobia, Literal Alternate Universes, M/M, Multiverse, New Mexico, No siree, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Projecting My Unresolved Trauma At All, Nuclear Testing Sites, Nuclear Weapons, Polyamory, Road Trips, Rural Southwest, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Science Bros, Shame, Skrull(s), Sokovia Accords, Stress Baking, TVA, Therapy, Time Travel, Time Variance Authority - Freeform, Tony Stark Stays Dead, Totally Not Sort Of Inspired By S2 of Umbrella Academy, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier Trial, under edit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29543277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badboibuckyyy/pseuds/badboibuckyyy
Summary: It's the body that betrays the ruse, made of unknown compounds and tissue not of this earth. The wrinkled corpse in the coroner's office is not Steve Rogers. That's the body of a Skrull ally who lies lifeless on the metal table.Bucky Barnes is doing completely fine. There's a historic apartment in Brooklyn that constantly smells of sourdough bread. He has a therapy cat, spends an occasional afternoon drinking black coffee with Natasha. He tells himself that he doesn't miss the man he once loved. Those days are over. Steve got what he wanted, Bucky gets to be alive. He is lucky not to be dust.But then Noor Tir, of the Time Variance Authority, shows up, and his world comes crashing down. She gives him a choice, a chance, and a time-traveling mission. He takes it, even though the mission comes with a partner full of his own pain.It didn't work out great the first time around, so, all that's left to do is try again.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	1. The End is Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve Rogers is dying, and Bucky resents him. That's because every breath Steve takes with the help of the machines feels to Bucky like being sliced open. So he runs.

In Bucky Barnes’s mind, the hospital room smells like blood, but that’s just another false reality. A loaded memory, like a gun, the trigger itching against his vibranium index finger. Bucky will forever associate antiseptic and bleach with torn flesh, gleaming metal, forgetting, remaking, coming back.

Looking back on it all now, Bucky was a fool. He can’t believe he...

He wishes Peggy the best. He knows he’s lucky to not be dust. That coin flip, the half chance, it worked out for everyone except Tony Stark. 

Bucky doesn’t miss Tony, but he attended the funeral. There, Pepper took his right hand and smiled at him.

“We forgive you, James.”

Zemo called him James. 

Bucky smiled back. He let Pepper see her husband however she saw fit, and would pretend to see him that way too, for her sake. He had gotten so good at pretending, changing himself for the watchful eyes of the world. He was doing so well. 

It’s true.

His apartment is full of sunshine that casts its rays across counters dusted with flour. Succulents line the kitchen window sill. A silky white cat, Alpine, named for her coat that gleams like snow, lies on a dining chair waiting for his return. That life he had a glimpse of, the one taken from him so long ago, is now back within his reach.

But Steve...

His breath is ragged, rattling inside of him as Steve takes his own, machine-aided breaths. In that treacherous part of his mind where his old memories reside, Bucky lets himself think about their childhood games of kick-the-can. He thinks of the old Campbell’s soup cans they would play with as he watches Steve’s chest rise and fall.

He won’t cry, damnit. 

“Mr. Barnes?” It’s that nurse. Jerry, if the nametag isn’t lying. The one with the thick midwestern accent, who asked Bucky what it was like in the forties. 

“Yes?” Bucky turns to face him.

“Mr. Wilson is here, and we’re only allowing a single visitor at a time-” Jerry’s voice is gentle, like Bucky isn’t being exiled to the hallway, like Steve has years left to live. “So we need you to step out, just for a moment.”

There’s no reason to fight the nurse. In fact, he’s grateful. He needs to leave before he breaks. Bucky nods and turns for the door, where Sam stands waiting. They nod at each other, but Sam’s eyes are cold. So are Bucky’s. On his way out, he lets his metal shoulder knock into Sam. 

Spite can be so healing, he thinks, but he doesn’t feel fixed. Sam curses under his breath as Bucky disappears into the bustling ICU hallway. He goes down the stairs, letting the white of the stairwell overwhelm his vision. Soon he’s outside, fumbling for his Metrocard. He stops and looks up at the sky.

Steve is dying, and he is running away like a scared child. Like he has no heart. Like he’s ice. But he is ice. He is a block of jagged and unmelting ice. He doesn’t want to feel, but that’s a one-way trip to pain. Steve is about to leave him. This is the end of the line. The one they spent together. The one they promised.

But that promise is long broken. 

Bucky regrets so much, but what he did before Steve went back, he regrets that until it burns. He feels lips near his own. He feels them pull away. He sees a shaking blond head. Blue eyes full of disdain. Steve guides him out of the grove, the one Bucky thought was beautiful. Beautiful like Steve. 

They share an awkward hug, and Bucky wishes he could disappear once more.

And then Steve leaves.

And then he comes back, and the coming back hurts like being pulled apart.

The man Bucky swore he loved looks at him like he's translucent. Like he’s a ghost Steve barely knows.

He chose her, the lipsticked warrior, the woman who has a history, a love beyond starred and striped machismo. Steve chose homewrecking over him. All of it is wrong. His Steve is gone. In his place is a weak man. A man who will never know what he feels. Bucky looks back at the hospital. He turns, because Steve ran from him.

All he is doing is returning the favor.


	2. I Gotta Go Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Time Variance Authority comes to Bucky's door, and destroys the carefully-held together happiness he has been constructing since his return to the universe.

Before the knock on the door comes, before his carefully held-together world comes crashing down, he’s mixing dough. 

Butter. Just a pinch of salt. Flour. Chunks of bittersweet chocolate. He’s making crinkle cookies, from a recipe in the New York Times. His therapist, Dr. Garcia, recommended baking as a form of self-care, but Bucky wouldn’t call it that. More like self-distraction. When he feels, he distracts himself. In the beauty of creating something sweet, he positions himself far away from emotion. 

It’s been a day since Steve died. Sam called to check in the night before. Bucky told him the truth; he was doing well. It was sick, but on some level, he was relieved that Steve was gone. He would no longer climb the nursing home’s stoop, a vanilla funfetti cake in his hands for the staff, and experience that awkward in-between of feeling like both a confidant and a stranger. He wouldn’t miss that.

It still hurts to think about, though, so he redirects himself. This recipe is simple, childish, even, but he has been craving the dense richness of the end product. He folds the chocolate into the flour mixture with precision, places the orbs of future-cookies onto parchment-lined baking sheets. He gently anchors the candied ginger, the cookie’s coup de grace, in the center of each ball.

With the oven door shut, he surveys his apartment. Prints of geometric shapes cover his walls, and sunlight streams through the picture window. Alpine is sleeping on top of her cat tree, her shiny red collar gleaming. The sound of a child practicing piano occasionally drifts from the floor below him. He looks down, and sighs. This is what he always wanted. 

Somehow, it still doesn’t feel right.

When a sharp knock on the door jolts him out of his reverie, Bucky’s head snaps up. He carefully places the tray of cookies in the oven, makes his way to the sink, and slowly, carefully washes the dough from his hands, the flesh touching vibranium touching water a more normal sensation than one might imagine. His stomach turns as he makes his way to the door. A premonition slows his gait. This isn’t going to be a welcome visitor.

He’s about to check the peep-hole when-

“Mr. Barnes, I’d love it if you’d open the door. Right now.” A young woman’s voice commands him.

He’s not the type to subvert orders. If there’s a criminal bent on robbing him in the hall, he can probably manage. He hasn’t forgotten the things his hands can do. He twists the deadbolt and pulls open the door.

Standing before him is a small woman with copper skin and huge green eyes. His anxiety does not subside. The woman exudes a live wire energy. And then there’s the pistol-shaped outline in the lower pocket of her cargo pants. He stands like a stone monolith, unmoving, emotionless.

"Mr. Barnes. It’s a pleasure.” She speaks like he’s a celebrity. “I’ve been waiting for this day. Seriously. Since the Cold War. Or, your Cold War, that is. Your Winter Soldier days… You were a  _ badass, _ ” She chuckles. He’s not amused; he’s worried. And when he feels worried, he gets angry.

“Who the hell are you?” He growls the words, but she smiles like his response made her day.

“My name is Noor Tir, Time-Keeper with the Time Variance Authority. TVA for short. Can I call you Bucky?”

He doesn’t respond. 

“Well, Bucky. I’m not sure if you know who we are, judging by your general affect. The TVA is a multi-universe watch group, run by Mr. Mobius. We are here to make sure that the multiverse is functioning properly, and that there are minimal temporal interferences.”  
“Multiverse?” He’s heard the theories, of course, but there’s no proof. He’s decided this woman is insane. Still, he can’t seem to close the door. Instead, he plants his feet like roots in the ground and lets her ramble at him.

“You know, you’re on Earth 616. I’m originally from Earth 479. In my timeline, the world ended on October 16th, 1962. Everything went kaboom, up in nuclear hellfire.” Her green eyes sparkle with what looks to Bucky as something like glee. “Lucky for me, I started working for the Time Variance Authority a couple weeks before my timeline expired, and left for the TVA’s office when it did!” 

Bucky has a sudden desire to console her, but she’s grinning, so he says nothing. Maybe her timeline hurt her, but so did his. Her grin wobbles.

“Ok, that was a little off topic. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But Bucky, we need your help. Steve Rogers…”  
“Is dead. Died yesterday-” Bucky finishes, but she interrupts him with a chirp. 

“Incorrect! Steve Rogers’ is trapped in the past of an alternate universe, actually. That dying old man you saw? That you visited  _ way _ too many times? He was one of our Skrull Minutemen. You know, Skrulls? Shapeshifting aliens? He took the form of Steve Rogers to buy me time to get here, no pun intended. It’s not easy to transcend  _ both  _ space and time.” She pauses for a breath and a giggle. “Endlessly indebted to us, he gave his life to put on a convincing show. But pretty soon, the coroners will find out, and everyone will know that Captain America used faulty Pym Particles for his return trip to the present, and ended up in Earth 479, circa 1962!”

“Did you say Earth 479? Isn’t that… your earth? The one that ended in a nuclear apocalypse?”

“Yup! That’s why I’m here, Bucky!” Her voice sounds like a song, but the subtext sounds like a sob to his ears. “We technically are a government organization, and it’s true, isn’t it, that you are indebted to the government for acquitting you?”

Yes it’s true. His acquittal came with conditions, and he has upheld them so far. He always registers his locations. He never engages in violence. He refrains from alcohol. He takes his pills. Free but not. They watch him, and if they need him, he’s here. Some days he is sure that he will fuck up. Some days he is filled to the brim with holding back. On those days he bakes layer cakes.

If the government needs him, he is theirs, because he was HYDRA’s for so long. It’s just a continuation of how things have been, and how they will always be.

“We’re sending you through the multiverse, with the help of some of your timeline’s premier scientists. It’ll be an easy trip, an extraction and a return. Don’t be stubborn, or stupid, or selfish enough to refuse, because if you don’t help,  _ your  _ Stevie will die, for real this time, and there’s no undoing that.” She licks her full lips and gives him a playful wink. 

Her choice of words cut like a blade. Steve was never his.

Bucky has made up his mind.

“I’m not doing anything for you.” He hisses. “Or your bullshit organization.”

“Oh, but you need to. Steve is trapped in a world about to end. You need to retrieve him, and if you don’t, you’re going to lose the man you love. Isn’t that a simple choice?” She cocks her head.

“Get away from me, now.” He says, but she looks at him, unmoving.

“I’m going nowhere, Bucky. But Steve is. Every second we talk is a second you could be saving him.”

“I don’t want to save him!” He raises his voice to match the storm of emotion inside of his chest. “That’s over. I’m happy here.”

“Who are you convincing? You don’t look happy.” She sniffs the air, he does too. His cookies are burning, yet he doesn’t move. “You look like a man that’s hiding something and it’s hurting you.”

“I’m fine.” 

He wants to scream. He’s accepted Steve being gone, Steve not loving him. It’s been nothing but pain but he’s accepted it all. 

“Oh for sure. But there’s more than fine. There’s happiness that you don’t have to convince people of by baking them cookies. Oh man, I’m sounding like a therapist.”

“Leave. Me. Alone.” He's barely it holding together.

“Just think about it, okay?” She smiles a toothy smile. All he sees are her canines. 

She hands him a business card with a phone number printed in crimson ink.

“I’m in this timeline for another day. Figure it out quick, Bucky.” She reaches out for a handshake. He doesn’t take her hand. She gives a small sigh. “By the way, you’re a huge inspiration for me… Guess asking for an autograph is out of the question?” Her request goes ignored. The door is already shut.

Bucky moves as if he's dreaming to the oven, and pulls out the burning cookies. The acrid smell of burnt chocolate fills the space. There are tears in his eyes. They sting like that shampoo that isn’t supposed to burn. It feels so unnatural to cry. He blinks the wetness into oblivion. 

The remembering comes fast, and hits him like the train he once fell from. Steve, dancing to a record, a bottle of cola in his hand. Small, scrawny Steve. His Steve, who refused to fight him, and his Steve, shield raised, ready to take on his friends, and a hundred-and-seventeen nations for him. Bucky thinks and feels and worries and oversimplifies almost a hundred years of fears. 

He wants to do it all differently.

He wants to try again. Every ounce of him, from his cybernetic arm to the human blood running through his veins, is yearning for another chance. He smells blood again, but he knows it’s fake. All of it is. His life is a joke of a game. It’s rigged against him. When he lets himself feel, he feels sorry for himself.

Alpine, comes and brushes against his leg. Bucky is running his right hand through her short, soft fur and her small body rumbles with contented purrs. The tears come again. He lowers one knee, letting himself be close to this small, loving animal. The sobs come like a dam inside of him has broken.

He wonders if Steve remembers him, in whatever universe he’s in. Bucky’s mind fixates on this point. What if Steve is alone, scared, hurting? What if Steve is lost, experiencing that unhinged, disconnected feeling of unknowing that he lived with for nearly all of his life so far? He could do something. 

He could help, instead of destroy.

Bucky looks out the window of his apartment. He wipes his tears with the sleeve of his cotton shirt, pulls out his phone, and makes the tentative decision to get a second opinion. He’s lucky. Natasha Romanov has no shortage of opinions.


End file.
